


my name is safe in your mouth

by insectoid_demigoddess



Series: godworship [3]
Category: Kamen Rider Gaim
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, cant call it a PWP since there's a Bit of Plot?, free range callbacks, godhood means what kouta wants it to mean and we should be ok with that, kouta and takatora plan a date (sort of), no beta we die like god, vague rider cameo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:48:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24190810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insectoid_demigoddess/pseuds/insectoid_demigoddess
Summary: the first kiss is pressed to the corner of takatora's mouth. it's as much of an announcement of kouta's intent as it is a request for attention; takatora obliges both, and the tension in his face eases just a little when he looks at kouta. it's a good start.[godworship-compliant; obligatory 'it started with a kiss, how did it end up like this']
Relationships: Kazuraba Kouta/Kureshima Takatora
Series: godworship [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1728640
Comments: 7
Kudos: 8





	my name is safe in your mouth

takatora is telling him about a recent investors meeting. some family from across tokyo wants access to the debris left by the helheim invasion, and an old friend of his father's had encouraged him to allow them into the city. takatora, who uses more words than necessary when he's uneasy about something, keeps pressing his lips together in between reciting the family's requests. as his eyes travel down some document he's committed to memory, a muscle at his jaw ticks. there's a deep furrow between his brows when he reaches the part about the investor not wanting to make a collection of it, but keep mentioning the importance of having access to _everything_. 

it's obvious which of these vitally important things kouta is paying attention to. 

the first kiss is pressed to the corner of takatora's mouth. it's as much of an announcement of kouta's intent as it is a request for attention; takatora obliges both, and the tension in his face eases just a little when he looks at kouta. it's a good start. 

"they mentioned you, called you a 'masked rider'," he says; kouta hums, he'd heard that part, recognizing then how the request turned from tiring to all-out suspicious. he dedicates the next kiss to soothing the rigid line the thought makes of takatora's jaw, then makes a trail out of the third, fourth, fifth going up to the shell of takatora's ear. there, he murmurs, "i could be with you, if you like."

takatora will take his time to think about the _yes_ he's going to give. it might come with a rule or two, but it'll be a _yes_ \- just like how the way takatora turns his face so their lips meet is a _yes_. kouta doesn't worry too much, and gives his full attention to takatora tugging on his bottom lip and teasing his mouth open. 

like sinking into the invitation of the dreamscape, kouta leans his weight against the sleep-warm body under him. takatora's arms are loose around his back, clutching at the worn fabric of his hoodie only when kouta tickles the roof of his mouth or drops a kiss onto the tip of his nose. 

settled against the crux of his legs, kouta is keenly aware of where and how far he can take this, and though the thrill of that knowledge never wanes, it still takes a backseat to kouta wanting to take his time soothing each line of tension out of takatora. 

though, despite how selfless it sounds, it isn't a thankless pursuit: kouta pries as many little pleasured gasps and sighs from takatora's mouth as he does lingering kisses; his own hands are just as busy, undoing buttons and mapping out planes of skin and nipples that harden at his touch. kouta takes as much as he gives, and maybe even more than he should, but takatora removes the option of a refusal himself when he says _please_ with the arch of his back and _i want you_ with his fixed and heated gaze.

his intent to give himself to kouta echoes in both of them.

there's a bruise, fading but noticeable, just a little off the junction of takatora's neck and shoulders, near an old scar. when kouta bites down on it, a ragged gasp escapes from takatora's kiss-bitten lips. the wavering moan of his name makes kouta shudder, and he pulls himself up to slot his mouth against takatora's again, even as his hands contend with a clasp and a zipper and the distracting satisfaction of takatora's stomach quivering when he slides his pants and boxers down his hips.

takatora pulls him taut to extremes, and kouta doesn't need the omnipotence bubbling just under his human skin to prove himself capable of reaching for both. 

in the in-between hours long after dark but seemingly ages away from any dawning light, kouta has takatora to himself: his dark eyes, his parted lips, his beating heart; the heat at the core of him, and a little lower where his thighs meet, and at his fingertips; the way his name feels safe in takatora's mouth, the way their fingers intertwine, the way kouta fits between his legs, skin to skin. being this close together - with neither of their backs set against hard places, without mountains of mistakes or doubts to overcome - makes kouta nearly light-headed with euphoria and desire. 

here, he can ask: _can i - kiss you, touch you, make love to you?_ and takatora can answer with every fibre of himself, honest in thought and action, letting him know in no uncertain terms how he wants this, and how he wants kouta. _yes, i want you to_.

it's almost enough to drive even a god like kouta insane, how much of himself takatora wants to give him. maybe if kouta hadn't kept his human heart alive in stubborn defiance of what godhood helheim wanted to bestow upon him, maybe he'd just have taken everything for himself. maybe he'd have let takatora kneel and kiss his feet out of a primordial sense that this is what is owed to him, instead of acknowledging that it's what takatora needs to be able to right himself.

maybe if he'd become what helheim thought an overlord was, maybe zawame would be the new garden of eden, and he'd have cast out those too weak to stomach the fruit they'd taken a bite of. maybe he'd pierce through takatora in a different way, maybe they would have tried to end each other. 

if all that had come to pass, kouta knows he would have nothing of the look in takatora's eyes when he's told to use his hand on his cock or the artless way takatora answers when he asks if one, two fingers are enough ( _another moan, pitched impatience, a crystal clear 'no' when takatora tightens around him, when his hips seek out the coaxing press and spread of kouta's fingers_ ). he would have power, yes, but he wouldn't have takatora holding himself still while he's plied open, trembling with effort but entirely trusting. 

kouta redefines what it means to have the power to create a new world to suit his own ends every time he soothes takatora with a touch or a word or a look - and so, because kouta wants him to, takatora starts to cum first, the intensity of it winding him up breathless. kouta thinks he'd be next, reaching his peak just by watching takatora, but he holds himself back, working takatora open further as he tightens around his fingers. 

with his free hand, takatora reaches up to drag kouta to him, just as he spills over his faltering grip; he breathes kouta's name into his mouth, and kouta's long since lost count of their kisses, but he savors this featherlight touch all the same. 

they're an awkward, slightly damp tangle of limbs while takatora plateaus; he hadn't noticed it, but kouta had been breathing just as hard, and he draws in lungfuls as he shifts to let takatora get comfortable on his lap. while takatora nips kisses over his face like a determined but drowsy kitten, kouta pulls his fingers out and fumbles for the lube hiding in the disarrayed folds of the bedsheets. he nuzzles takatora back, enjoying how the skin pressed against him has warmed and how takatora melts against him when he indulges in another unhurried kiss. 

like this, it's baffling how takatora sometimes thinks he should 'spoil kouta back', as if giving himself over entirely isn't already more than he ought to do. kouta commits the moment to memory, adding it to his ever-expanding list of times when he'd been spoiled sweet, and lets takatora catch his breath and wits for a while longer. 

he rubs circles into takatora's back with one hand while he uses the other to warm more lube between his fingers - he's idle, and so, easily surprised when takatora's warm hand wraps around his cock, stiff with neglect and slick with precum. the lube tumbles out of reach again when kouta jerks into takatora's hand; his visceral surprise makes takatora laugh, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiles down at kouta, who groans and clutches at the sheets as takatora tightens his grip, as he twists his fist up and around the head of kouta's cock.

when takatora lifts his gaze to kouta, there's a question in the tilt of his head and the insistence of his hand. and, _yes_ , is the immediate, guttural answer kouta wants to give, almost completely lost to the anticipation of takatora using his mouth on him, watching him with heat in his eyes while he fills himself with his fingers - but, they have time enough _later_ for that, _after_ kouta takes care of him. 

so kouta shakes his head, and reaches for the lube again. takatora allows him, resting his chin on kouta's shoulder with a sigh and shifting to spread his legs wider, which kouta shows appreciation for with a kiss to the smooth curve of his shoulder. 

"you're just impatient to have your way with me," takatora muses, a roughened quality to his voice that kouta is familiar with and weak to, especially when it's accompanied by the steady pressure of takatora's hand around his cock. still, even without either of those things, there's no reason to deny the fact, and kouta smiles as he eases in the first finger, followed soon by the second. 

"you want me to," kouta replies, immeasurable fondness in the playful cadence of his voice and the way he holds takatora's hips in place as he spreads his fingers inside him. takatora's hand stutters over kouta's cock but doesn't stop, not entirely; his arm comes around to clutch at kouta's back, blunt nails dragging over his skin transferring the electric shiver that runs down his spine and makes him sit up just a bit straighter on kouta's lap. as mildly as he'd begun, kouta continues, matching the pauses between his words with the movement of his fingers: "you want me inside you, and you want me to take as much time as i want."

his body says as much, opening up for kouta like it was made to do just that. when kouta adds the third finger, takatora jerks his hips down as far as kouta's hold allows, a fluid _yes_ that he echoes into kouta's mouth, _i want you to_.

like this, it's _so_ _easy_ to ignore his human body's understated but persistent need. kouta can fuck his own hand any time, but that's nothing in the face of the careful consideration it takes to have takatora aching in want at his fingertips, to the point that his words alternate only between kouta's name and the grace of his consent. 

takatora is _his_ responsibility, one that kouta is all too happy to fulfill.

when he pushes into takatora, kouta doesn't stop until he's sunk completely into him. skin to skin, connected with finality, there's no space for them to put up any sort of barriers between each other - it's the intimacy of their dreamscape made all the more physical, something that kouta doesn't need to close his eyes to see. 

nestled as closely as they can be, kouta thinks - they could spend hours like this, fitted together, just barely moving. kouta feels takatora's agreement with the thought when strong thighs squeeze around him, keeping him in place. they linger together in the warmth of their connection, and kouta luxuriates in the gentle kiss takatora presses to his forehead as they wind down into stillness. 

the world outside the bed they lie in seems like it's forgotten them, the dark and quiet of it remaining unbroken, which is just fine with kouta, who lays tender kisses on takatora's chest, from the bottom of the scar that warps his shoulder to just over his heart. each second they spend just breathing in place feels like it expands indefinitely, that even the sensation of takatora's fingers combing through his hair and tracing the shell of his ear tugs kouta's heart into his throat. if takatora kisses him now, if kouta erases the breath of space separating them, it feels like they could forget the world, too-- 

\--it's too much, and kouta suddenly realizes he's trembling, goosebumps broken out all over his skin, and takatora is staring fixedly at him as his chest quavers with his breaths, both of them hyperaware of each other. a ragged laugh escapes him, and after a beat, takatora laughs with him, low and soft. 

"hey," kouta murmurs, leaning up just a little to kiss takatora fully; the movement, even slow and careful as it is, still makes takatora moan like something unraveled from between his lungs, and kouta adds _that_ to the list, too.

pointedly, yet trembling, but most obviously and importantly of all, _deliberately_ , takatora crosses his ankles over kouta's back, the soles of his feet bouncing off the small of kouta's back. heat smolders in the crescents of his eyes where the smile at his lips is mirrored, and takatora says, "hello, kouta."

"i'm putting that on the list," kouta says decisively, after giving in to the urge to kiss takatora again, "that look was just for me, right? so it counts."

 _does it now_ , the lift of takatora's eyebrow says. he doesn't contest kouta further though, because he wouldn't _really_ , not about this, and because kouta moves again, sitting back on his haunches to gather takatora's legs and hook them over his shoulders. 

takatora's mouth falls open in a moan as kouta doubles him over and thrusts into him. he builds up a slow rhythm, eyes darting between takatora's eyes with their pupils blown wide and his lips as they murmur kouta's name, the sheen of sweat on his skin and the flush of arousal on his cock, the rise of his chest and the fall of his lashes against his cheeks. he's beautiful like this, and in every way that kouta gets to have him.

and kouta wants him, in so many ways: making love in this bed for hours through the night, sitting in his office with the glass windows at dawn, walking down the port while the sun sets. he wants takatora when he's just waking up and stubbornly keeping his eyes closed, when he's making faces over the desserts from charmant, when he's fitting his thumb in kouta's palm without knowing. 

takatora anchors kouta back to the present when he reaches up and pushes kouta's hair from his forehead, when he trails his fingertips down kouta's cheek and says " _please_ ," in a voice that's as wrecked as kouta feels. and, really, who is kouta to deny him? 

there's no sense of roughness in kouta's movements, only a focused intent. he kicks up his pace, nails digging into takatora's thighs as he pulls out almost completely before thrusting home. they're both close, and maybe kouta is barely hanging by a thread, but he waits until takatora is tightening around him, pulling him close with his legs and surging up for a searing kiss, until he's cumming untouched and dragging kouta deeper into him with the insistent buck of his hips - and only _then_ does kouta give into himself.

they always end like this: kouta, shaking from the force of the orgasm that he's probably ignored for too long, and takatora, soothing him with every _thank you_ he can make of his hands and lips. without fail, it's always the best thing kouta has ever felt. 

  
  
  


later on, while the rest of the world is waking up, kouta stirs to find takatora pawing at his phone and its steadily ringing alarm. lovingly, and because takatora doesn't have a great sense of direction when he's got his face firmly buried against kouta's neck, kouta turns it off for him. and, while he's at it, he swipes through takatora's emails, too. 

he's only looking for one, and kouta spends the rest of the time takatora takes waking up reading through it. takatora _had_ memorized it, almost word for word - and there, near the end, his 'name'. _kamen rider gaim_. it's as good as an invitation, as well as a threat, and kouta makes his mind up to accept both while his free hand rubs idly at takatora's lower back. he gets a sleepy, pleased murmur for it, and knows it's not long before takatora wakes up fully; kouta keeps his hand where it is while he reads on.

the meeting is set in two days, at a museum in fuuto city. whoever sent the email signs off as the museum's administrator, but doesn't give their name. kouta wonders if he should ride with takatora on the way, or stay out of sight until necessary. it's an important consideration, but he isn't too distracted to miss takatora's fingertips tapping against his lips. on impulse, he pecks a kiss to each finger and a _good morning_ to his palm. 

"you were frowning," takatora murmurs as he draws himself up. there're imprints of the wrinkled mess of his pillowcase on his face, and his hair is a nest of tangles and flattened planes from where he'd been lying on it. kouta can hardly keep his smile from splitting his face. 

"mm, i was reading the email." and since he's finished, kouta sets the phone aside and takes a moment to roll the shoulder takatora had slept on. he flips the pillow, too, before patting the still-warm space next to him.

"do you want to ride with me, going there?" takatora asks, somewhat properly collected now, but still perfectly content to lie back beside kouta, nuzzled against his shoulder.

"sure," kouta answers, circling takatora's waist with his other arm and drawing the blanket over them both. "let's make it a date."

takatora laughs, and says, "sure," before tilting his face up and pressing the first kiss of the day to the unwavering smile on kouta's face. 

**Author's Note:**

> \- not beta'd because i wrote this in the wee hours, i _know_ the mistakes in this. if any of them made it past me experiencing mysterious emotions at 5am, please let me know so i can exorcise them <3
> 
> \- special thanks and shoutout to Commie, factually delightful always, but also specifically when allowing me to ask things like "would kouta use the word acquiescence?" and "would it make sense to use 'plateau' to describe how someone melts like goop after orgasm?"
> 
> \- (obligatory the killers bg) the initial summary for this was... "kt/tktr kissing while tktr is trying to tell/ask kt something important but kt is distracted by wanting to kiss him". it got away from me bc i let kouta drive but it turned out delightful and good and i'm so sorry to takatora's back. 
> 
> \- the song/s i listened to while writing this were: nee, rain (soraru; album version) and umi-kun's recent 26-song medley with the beautiful bits from wanderlast and the disappearance of hatsune miku


End file.
